Homecoming
by witwit8
Summary: She was all gangly legs yet to sprout to their full, beautiful potential; dark long, frazzled hair pulled up into a messy bun and knotted at the base of her skull. You remember the gleam of her eyes behind the thick shine of her black rimmed glasses, the stupid red lunchbox that (as you later learned) always, always encased an apple and an ecto cooler juice box. High school AU.
1. Chapter 1

Homecoming

Author's Note: Okay, so- AU High School Rookie Blue. I have a thing for badass!gailpeck, okay? This, I think, will be a 3 parter. Review if you're so inclined and let me know what you think. Depending on Wednesday, I may or may not just want to crawl into a hole. This makes me feel better about that. No beta, all the mistakes are mine.

Synopsis: You remember the first time that you saw her- all gangly legs yet to sprout to their full, beautiful potential; dark long, frazzled hair pulled up into a messy bun and knotted at the base of her skull. You remember the gleam of her eyes behind the thick shine of her black rimmed glasses, the stupid red lunchbox that (as you later learned) always, always encased an apple and an ecto cooler juice box.

Rating: Got a bit of a love scene in the next couple. So, T.

You remember the first time that you saw her- all gangly legs yet to sprout to their full, beautiful potential; dark long, frazzled hair pulled up into a messy bun and knotted at the base of her skull. You remember the gleam of her eyes behind the thick shine of her black rimmed glasses, the stupid red lunchbox that (as you later learned) always, always encased an apple and an Ecto Cooler juice box. You remember it all because that is the moment that your mouth went dry, your heart nearly beat out of its chest. For some reason, you took one look at her and your heart- so long frozen and stilted- it looked at her and it screamed and it said, this one, this one, this is the one I choose- and in that moment, at thirteen fucking years old- you'd fallen in love with that girl, fallen in love with someone you'd never even spoken to.

So, you watched her. You watched her that whole year, never speaking, never even acknowledging her existence, simply peering and studying her- this girl who captured you so, who made you feel unlike anyone you'd ever met. And you'd met her eyes a few times by accident- yes- and had been met by that disarming half-smirk that you'd found she reserved for a small few lucky souls- but still you'd looked away, all shy eyes and hidden smirks when she'd safely looked away.

The day that your mother had announced you were moving away- the life of a military brat, she'd mused- you'd felt your heart plummet. The people- mostly teachers- who'd found out about your situation had wished you a farewell full of promises of better schools, better friends.

The memory that sits at the forefront of your mind of the last day, though, is a simple one- you'd stood at your locker haphazardly and somewhat regretfully emptying it of its contents. A light tap at your shoulder had startled you, only to leave you staring down a formerly empty hall all of a sudden filled with gangly legs and melancholy brown eyes. Rapid, spoken words and a sloppy kiss to your cheek are all you are left with before those legs are retreating down that empty hall.

"I'm going to miss seeing you around, Gail Peck," she'd said, her dark eyes slightly darting around the hall.

And then it was those lips against your skin.

You'd attached your palm to that burning cheek.

It had taken your mother's questions and nagging ridicule throughout the evening and the next day to finally remove it and the goofy smile from your face.

When you return to your bursting metropolis, you are seventeen years old- all pale burning eyes and snarling lips. The lessons you have learned throughout your years away are not ones you hope to repeat and you find yourself retreating into yourself, looking for any reason to cash in on anyone else's weakness so they don't take advantage of your own.

You find that after a few well placed barbs and snarls that people don't look your way, try much when it comes to you. That is, until the day you see her again.

It takes a few glances, a few prolonged stares before you see the light come on behind her eyes, the recognition form on her still beautiful features.

You don't blame her- your shoulder length auburn locks long gone and replaced by a bleached blonde pixie cut, the hoodies and soft cotton pants traded for ripped jeans and a comfortable vintage leather jacket. You were changed, you couldn't deny that. Physically anyway. Because for some reason, at the turn of those lips and the recognition in her eyes, you can't help but feel every bit as young as you had been when you'd fallen for her in the first place.

Time, it seemed, had done nothing to banish this girl from your pounding, fragile heart.

The day that the confirmation happens, you're in the A.P. English class your mother signed you up for last minute. The first day and you chose a seat in the very back of the class, hunched over and buried deep into the soothing supple leather of your favorite jacket. You hear her name, try to ignore the pin prickling on the back of your neck, the raising of your all of a sudden chilled skin. Count the seconds, breathe through the tight knot of anxiety, anticipation that rattles in your chest.

And then your name called and the muffled confirmation from your own mouth.

The feeling that comes over you when your name is uttered and a brunette head is turning to you with wide eyes encased in dorky, adorable frames, mouth twisted in a smile you can only describe as hopeful and altogether startled. It's a feeling that you were sure you'd never feel again. And really, you were okay with that because while it makes your heart race and your blood sing with untapped potential, it also fills you with a fear you've never really felt before, either. A fear that feels like falling and never knowing when you'll land but even worse, if you do, that it will hurt like the absolute flames of hell whenever it eventually happens.

So you shake your head and ignore the look, ignore the curiosity.

Instead, you study her to learn what you'd missed over all those important years and what you found- what you found didn't help you in the slightest bit.

Because Holly Stewart had grown taller, yes, and of fucking course all the more beautiful and athletic and tan but even worse, she'd grown into a beautiful person, too. Like in the Mother Theresa way and she walked sheltered dogs and volunteered for the homeless shelter and ran 5K's with those beautiful legs to benefit other non profit organizations. Because of course she does. Of course she's pretty and popular on the A honor roll and you-

You're just Gail Peck. Gail Peck who barely makes it to school on time, who takes the classes her mother dictates. Who stares at the pretty girl but knows- knows there is no future because regardless of the want and the desire, you know- you know come graduation day, you're getting fitted for the crisp white uniform all those before you have worn. You know where your fate lies.

Holly Stewart is full of promise and light and goddamn greatness. You- you're not sure but you know that anything you do will follow under the shadow of your name, under the shadow of their heroism.

So, you ignore her and try your best to glare anytime that smile lands your way, anytime her deep brown (Goddammit, do they have to be so fucking gorgeous?) eyes. But you can feel the walls crumbling, feel the defense waning. You know you're on the verge of letting go of all that you decided you held so dear. But still, you held fast. For whole minutes. Days. Weeks, even.

And then, then the plan had all gone to hell. Because there was a party and there were drinks and you are a lot of things but strong or less than honest in the face of alcohol was something that you never claimed to be.

Patricia Cornwall is a bitch. A rich one, though, so it makes sense that her parents have fucked off to the Hamptons for the weekend and left her to her own devices in her huge house. It makes all the sense and yet you can not fathom the fact that you are there, your loser cronies that had leeched onto your reluctant side sometime in the first semester on either side of you and rubbing their hands together at the potential for the evening, even as you are scanning the crowd in distaste and looking for any excuse to leave.

But then Chris and Dov retreat, off to conquer the female masses, and you're left to sulk and glance around the crowd, content to sip on your own bitter beverage in the corner. No one comes up to you, no one talks to you, you simply stare off into space, delighting in the buzz the echoes throughout your limbs as you continue to drink your whiskey and Coke.

But then- then there's someone beside you and you move to bark at them, to scare them off, because no one comes up to you un invited but it's her.

It's Holly and she doesn't even look at you, simply tucks one hand behind her body even as she flattens her back against the wall, cradling her drink with the other hand and although you try your best not to glance out the corner of your eye you do and you see the wry smirk on her face before she speaks.

"You've changed quite a bit, Miss Peck," she says, staring straight ahead and sipping on her red Solo cup.

"Yeah, well- it's been a while, hasn't it, Stewart? We can't have all bloomed into beautiful triathletes, can we?"

The words are out of your mouth in a second and you close your eyes both embarrassed because holy shit you'd admitted you thought she was beautiful but also- also that was so fucking snotty you cannot believe that those were the words you thought she deserved to hear after five long years of radio silence-

Her laughter breaks through your thoughts and you're startled but then you're laughing, too, breaking it only to sip once more at your glass, the burning of your throat spreading to your chest and making the interaction more fluid, more fun.

And then you both have somehow found yourselves tucked away in the quietest corner in a small room somewhere upstairs in the palatial estate, talking and teasing and maybe- maybe, just maybe- flirting a little- when she looks at you, finally turning her head toward yours and smiling that smile full on at you and you're lost. Lost enough to smile back, to tuck your head bashfully down when she tells you she's missed seeing you in the hallways at school. You shake your head, knock her shoulder with yours and scoff. She's laughing and knocking you back, waiting for the mirth to settle, your eyes to look back onto her face before she's speaking again.

"You're...an interesting subject to study," she says, her tone teasing, her eyes dancing at your slightly glazed look of inquiry.

You shake your head and laugh to cover the trembling of your vocal chords, the erratic flitting of your eyes over her face. Eyes that no matter how hard you try settle on her full lips, still stretched into a slightly tipsy, dopey grin.

There's a moment, then. A moment when her grin falters, when she notices how close you both actually are to one another. A moment when her eyes dip and her lips comes out to catch a full bottom lip.

The pounding in your heart schoes in your ears as you find yourself unable (read: unwilling) to move. A slight intake of breath, the slight mingling of both of yours before her lips have settled softly onto yours. It's chaste, almost non-existent, but your eyes close and your lips purse and your body- your body explodes.

And then it's over. Then she's pulled away with a look you can't quite place on her features and you open your mouth to say something, anything-

And then there's a pounding on the door, the knock of it sending you skittering away from her, putting great and vast distances between you. Dov's voice pulls you away. You haphazardly and hurriedly depart her company with promises of later and tomorrow and next weekend.

Even you can feel the strain, the lack of conviction in your words as you throw them over your shoulder. Because you know you don't plan to speak to her, to contact her. You've never been brave, never had the real courage to- to grasp the things you so want in your life. This girl, this- this young woman, she's been away from you for so long and yet she reads you better than anyone ever has, knows you more, you realize, than you know yourself.

And so it's with a heavy heart (heavy fucking heart? Try sunken, steel stomach, dry cotton mouth and nausea of the likes you've never felt before, sweat stained skin marring your complexion) that you close the door of Dov's car behind you.

But it's when Dov starts to pull away from the party in his parent's old Corolla when you see her out of the corner of your eye, tucked behind a pillar on the wrap around porch with imploring, disappointed eyes. And suddenly- suddenly you can't fucking stand it.

He stops the car when you yell your objections, tell him to wait, your heart all of a sudden in your throat, grasping hold of your vocal chords with clammy, shock ridden hands.

You knew he would. He doesn't even ask as the car barely rolls to a stop before your feet have hit the ground.

The door shuts loudly behind you, your steps pounding the floor as you stalk toward her even more so. You snatch her wrist from her side and drag her beside the house far from curious stares, eyes all dark despite their color, determined and cloudy. And then you're asking so many questions-

"Did you really miss me? Why are you always- I mean, you barely know me and I- Holly, what the hell-"

But the questions that are echoing in your brain and clouding your judgment are all of a sudden gone because her lips are on yours and her tongue is swiping over your bottom lip and God help you, you're guiding her roughly back into the brick facade of the house and nipping at her bottom lip with your teeth and you're gone, gone, gone, immersed in the warmth and the steadfast strength of her kiss.

"I missed you, Gail," she's whispering against your lips, "I've missed you a lot. Until I saw you again… I don't think I knew how much."

A gasp as you settle fully into her, your body blanketing hers.

And this time, you don't hold back. This time you thread your fingers in her hair, dip into the sweet cavern on her mouth and gasp when her hips begin to move in tandem with yours. Feel the smile against your neck when she's biting the tender skin there. And even as your eyes close, and your mind begins to doubt and to whisper long heard doubts into the recesses of your mind, you kick them away, choosing to rest in the comfort and home of her arms.

Review if you're so inclined. Will be posting the rest of this story this and all the other stuff I have in the next week. Trying to purge myself of the Golly angst once and for all.

Thanks,

Whit


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I didn't start out writing this this evening. I have a 10 page A/U monster waiting for me and another prompt thing to proof but I made the mistake of going to my page and reading and, well, here you go. Sorry for the long update time. Life and health and more life got in the way so here you go. Lots of snogging so a little more T. It borders on M. Please let me know what you think. I'm trying to get my fics all finished up. :)

* * *

The ride to Holly's house is quiet, Chris and Dov looking at each other with badly disguised glee, and you can see them trying to silently work out how the situation ended up the way that it had. And there you are, in the back, your whirling mind barely able to comprehend the turn the evening had taken yourself.

You'd crashed your lips to hers, rutting your hips into hers, moaning into her mouth as her words resounded in your head.

A few long passes of your tongue over hers, her hips churning in slow circles, and then you're gasping and pulling away from her lips to look into her eyes only to groan against the sight that greets you, her lids closed, head dropped back against the brick, cheeks high with a deep pink blush as she rides your thigh that has somehow in the may-lay ended up tucked tightly into the vee of her legs.

And you think that at first you intended to speak but then again you hadn't expected this and your body is magnetically drawn back to hers and your lips are descending down onto her outstretched and exposed neck to drift along the expanse of flesh, pausing to suck hard on the bit of skin where her shoulder meets her neck, the bit that appears when you wrench her shirt just to the right-

And she's gasping and saying "Oh, God," and your name that slips so easily, so sweetly from those lips and you can tell that she's so close and you can't do anything but push harder and think 'Holly. This is Holly. I want her. God, I want her to'-

But a car is honking for you in the distance and someone else is- Chris maybe- yelling your name in a way that isn't nearly as pleasant and she stills before you do, whimpering slightly when you try to extract yourself from the strong embrace.

And you both look everywhere but each other, almost embarrassed by the veracity of the shared encounter, but the seconds are dwindling so you open your mouth, still unsure of where the words are going to lead you, but she beats you to it.

"My parents are out of town," she suddenly blurts and you watch the embarrassing weight of the eager words settle on her face, see the rush as she tries to fix it. It all just makes you warm.

"I mean- if you wanted to come over to my house... If you didn't have any other plans, I was thinking maybe you and I could- hang out? Talk a bit?"

And you can't help it, the goofy smile on your face, so you pull her to you quickly and seal her rambling mouth with yours and you're tugging her toward your waiting chariot before she can even register what is going on.

And when you get to the car, Dov is scowling and you see the bitter words ready upon his tongue as he gets ready to lay into you but then he sees your companion and the way your hand seems to be tangled with hers and the words die on his lips and are replaced by a little smile, devious and playful.

You send your own death glare in return and intensify the look when Chris' eyes nearly bug out of his head as you allow Holly to step into the back seat before you as you held the door.

When she was crawling in, head down into the darkness, you'd smacked him on the back of his head, twice for good measure when you saw his eyes drifting to the finer parts of Holly's backside.

And now, here you were, in the backseat, riding with two idiots shotgun and sitting next to the girl you'd loved forever.

And Holly was looking anywhere but you, cheeks still flushed but also with that small smile stretched upon her lips.

Her fingers do not move from yours, tighten even, as she's giving Dov the directions to her house.

The drive doesn't take long and though you are a bit shocked at the size of the house, you try not to let it show, getting out of the car first and following the brunette once she gets out herself and flashes you that cute, shy smile once more and thanks the boys for the ride. You chance one last look behind you and notice the boys smiling back, flipping Dov off when he exaggerates an eye roll and motions for you to "call me!" later.

Then they're driving off and she's unlocking the door and you are walking into the magnificence that is the Stewart household, releasing breath you didn't know you were holding when the heavy door thuds behind you. And she's shedding her coat and shoes and putting them on their respective hangers and mats and you follow her lead, almost powerless to do anything less.

She's standing in front of your in the foyer looking lost and bashful and so, so beautiful and you don't know what to do either so the silence thuds through you for long moments before she's gesturing to the sofa in the expansive, tastefully decorated living room and then taking your hand once more lightly and leading you there.

And then she's talking and you're answering- something about movies and before you know it, you're curling into the comfortable plush of the light colored couch and watching her with soft eyes as she dims the lights and starts the movie with the remote. The credits begin to roll and you laugh at her selection, looking over at her as she smiles and moves in next to you, shuffling closer and then closer until her legs are pressed against yours and you're watching the beginning of 'The Rescuers' and sneaking glances at her as she pretends to watch the screen and before you know it, she's kicking at you and you're shoving back and you're laughing and the tension that had been present since you walked in the door was gone and you were just two people getting to know each other in the dimness of the room.

And you talked. Talked about your life back in Vancouver and what you'd been doing and the fucking military and she told you about wanting to be a doctor and maybe traveling and you agree with that sentiment and then you talk about that and where you want to go when you're old enough to run away.

The movie flows in the back ground as you smile and tease and at some point between Holly's venture into the kitchen and triumphant return with snacks and your bathroom break, your bodies have come together and you're sitting shoulder to shoulder, arms brushing with every gesture and tease and playful jab.

And it's enough for a while. Until it begins to be too little or too much, you're not quite sure, and the tension grows once more, and there is so much silence around you both again, but then her words are breaking through the stillness.

"I didn't bring you here to- you know," she's whispering, "I really did- do- want to get to know you, Gail. I've always, well- Like I said, I missed you when you were gone. I wanted to talk to you, and get to know you- but- Gail,"

And you're swallowing at her words and taking a breath and turning your head slowly toward hers, so close, and watch as her face is illuminated with every flicker of the television set. She waits for your eyes to lock with hers before she is speaking deliberately, her voice low and suddenly wanting.

"Gail, I'm done talking and now all I want to do is kiss you."

And even if you wanted to, you couldn't resist and God, this all you've wanted since you stepped into the comfort of her home- fuck, if you're honest with yourself, ever since you first fucking saw her, before you knew what all of this would mean, does mean- and you surge against her, your lips searching out hers in the murky, cartoon lit darkness of the living room and you moan at the sensation, melting into her. You wrap your arms tightly around her and slant your mouth just right and trace her plush bottom lip with your tongue and smile as both lips open in a gasp. You bite down once and shiver at the ensuing sound- a strangled moan of a gasp- before you relent, her aching "Gail, please," destroying your resolve and pushing your tongue past those plush lips for the second time that evening, tangling your tongue with hers and twisting against it. You retreat, breathe once- gulp the air- and then you're dipping down once more, not even allowing one connection on your lips, simply pushing your tongue back into her mouth and stroking your tongue over hers with wide, precise sweeps.

And then her hands are moving and you feel the beanie fly off your head but barely register the sensation because she's pushing her hands into your short locks and twisting them at the root in time with the deep stroking of your tongue, the insistent connection of wet lips against wet lips and scooting forward toward you even more until her legs have somehow wrapped around your waist and she's straddling you and you can't help yourself, the warmth of her, the echo of dampness in between her legs, it's all too much and you want all of her because it's you and it's Holly and you have thought of nothing but her for years and years and years and it seems impossible that she's here and squirming against you and puffing wanting breath into your own mouth and you're barely lucid anymore, your body taking over.

So it's with little surprise you find your body leaning into hers until her back meets the plush pillows, the cushions, of the sofa. And you don't break the kiss as you settle your body over hers, don't break the kiss even as she sighs and scoots up so you have enough room to place your legs in the ever widening gap between her own.

And this is the first time it's felt like this- all fire and wanting and not focusing on the kisses themselves- overwhelming, and all-consuming as they are- but on the task, on the sheer, focused goal of devouring her from the inside fucking out. And you're kissing her hard enough to press her into the pillows and she's mewling, arms coming up to rest on the rigid shoulders that loom over her. You press your thigh up and into her when you breach the soft, full lips with your tongue, moaning as you feel the heat of her meet your leg, the slickness of her tongue sliding over your own. And you're braced above her, your weight settled full on into the core of her, the plush and softness of the cushions and you begin to rock into her, moaning as she nods her approval and begins to ride your leg much like before when she was pressed against the house, grinding down in a clockwise motion, once, twice, when you push up and into her and God this is something you've imagined so many times but it doesn't even hold a candle to what is happening now, what is real. God, the feel, the taste of her-

And she's threading her hands through your hair and then drifting them over the gentle slope of your hips and finally gripping hard onto your ass, urging your leg harder against her and rocking her hips faster when you increase the pace.

"Yes, yes, yes," she's saying, her glasses askew on her face, eyes closed against the onslaught of pleasure that she's receiving from your rigid thing, and you're moving so quickly, so hard, that your own legs burn and you almost feel like you're going to pass out, the hotness of the events thus far assaulting your body all at once- but then she opens her eyes and locks them with yours and smiles that little smile and lets a stuttered moan break out of it and you smile back like a fool but you guess you are and your energy is renewed and you keep moving up and into her, harder still.

And then the smile is off both of your faces and you're wobbling a bit, your arms showing their weakness, and you hope that she won't notice but she does and she stills, her hand coming up to cup your face and you almost melt when she's asks a quiet "you ok?" because you're pretty sure you should be the one asking Holly that, but you find it in you to nod and sigh slowly and she's peering at you and nuzzling her nose along the underside of your jaw, pressing delicate kisses there.

"Do you want to stop?" she's asking, "Because I don't want to have sex tonight- I've never-" And she's blushing but nuzzling still, "I was just thinking that I'd do a little more of this-"

She's gesturing between you both, at your still connected legs and hips and-

And you grit your teeth as she adds her own teeth to the fray, nipping up your throat, latching onto your earlobe, whispering into your ear and saying "A little more of me kissing you,"

And her hips have started moving against you again, this time so slowly, her hips sliding and sinking and you're gasping and laughing then because holy fuck-

"A little more of me feeling you, against me. Because... Gail,"

She pulls hard on your hips suddenly driving your leg harder, deeper and she gasps with it, her eyes still locked with yours.

"You feel so fucking _good_."

And you're nodding and moving and your head drops to her shoulder as you continue the slow and steady grind and you're lapping at her earlobe and your arms are no longer burning because you've finally let them buckle and you're lying on top of her, pressed body to body and surrendering to the grind, the slow and steady ache.

She's gasping and gripping and writhing and you're pushing and biting down on the curve of her shoulder and all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming feeling of it all.

She's reaching up and under your shirt and scratching desperate nails down your back, down your hips and wrenching you toward and into her.

One, two more ruts of your hips into the vee of her legs, the core of her, and your name is ripped from her lips to echo in your ears, reverberate around the room. She goes rigid and you feel a dampness on your thigh even through the fabric of your jeans and hers.

And you shift slightly to her side so you're almost tucked into it and then collapsing into her and trying to steady your breath with closed eyes. The credits roll in the background, the music playing over them and adding to sounds of your combined stuttered breaths. You breathe a sigh of contentment, relief maybe, as her hand comes up to rest on your arm and smooth up and down it in a steady motion.

A few more moments of catching breath and then she's speaking.

"I- uh- that was-"

A pause. She's nervous and it makes you smile because you just made her come undone.

"Yeah," you're saying, a smirk curving your lips, nose coming to ghost along her chattering jaw, "it was."

She sucks in a breath as you exchange your nuzzling nose for rooting lips and you're placing open mouth kisses there instead.

"I was thinking- and please, feel free to tell me no. I don't want you to think that just because, well- you know- you have to but, like I said, my parents won't be back until Sunday, so I was wondering, if you wanted to, if you wanted to stay the night because it's late and we had a couple of drinks and- we could just-I don't know- just stay out here and watch tv or something or I have one on my bedroom and-"

And she's rambling and your heart is pounding because of course you want to stay, of course you want to go to sleep in her bedroom, watching her crapping tv in her probably lovely room. And you can't stand it so you launch yourself at her once more and catch her lips with yours and mumble a steady yes against them.

So you find yourself being lead upstairs and to her (as suspected, fabulously decorated) bedroom. And then she's handing you a large t-shirt and a tiny pair of shorts and swallowing through the tension you both feel.

The t-shirt hits you mid-thigh and blankets the shorts. You take your bra and ball in up with your other clothes, putting in the corner of the bathroom by the shower.

When you come out, she's already in the bed with her television on and remote in hand. The television set (a flat screen, admittedly pretty large and not crappy like her own) was the only light in the room, giving a low but serene glow over her form.

She smiles at you, her eyes roaming over your legs and the feel of them sends a thrill down your spine as you move to the bed.

"Anything you want to watch?" she asks.

You're shaking your head, muttering a "doesn't really matter" and crawling into the Queen sized bed and shivering at the coolness of the sheets and using that as an excuse to move in close to her in the bed, settling there on your back propped against the pillows.

Another silence as you sit shoulder to shoulder for the second time that evening.

The click of the remote as she scrolls through the various categories on Netflix is the only sound that echoes in the room and you watch as she selects one of your favorite episodes of Futurama, knocking your shoulder against hers and settling into the pillows and the lush mattress.

She grabs your hand where it sits on your leg under the covers as the opening credits begin to roll. A minute in she's gotten bored and begins to skate her hand up the now rigid muscles of your bare leg.

It only takes a second and your intake of breath at the soft pads of her fingers being replaced by the scratching of her nails for her to turn her body towards you, for her to bring her other hand to cup your jaw and shift your face so your lips were open and wanting angled toward hers.

And then she's kissing you again like it's all she wants to do- now and maybe ever- and pulling at you as she shifts her tongue into your mouth and you're coming with the pull of her and settling over her body and sighing as you're in contact with her again, shoulder to shoulder, his to hip, full and flush against one another and she's wearing a long t shit and fuck you think that's it besides her underwear and the thought leaves your brain to jumbled and your mouth so dry but you only get a moment of fogginess before you're looking down at her smirk, registering a "my turn" in your blood pounding ears and goddammit her thigh is pushing up and into you, hard, and you're sinking into the feel of her thigh, your hips moving almost unconsciously.

And you know your mouth is open and your brow is furrowed as you look down at the determined slant of her mouth, the clenching of her jaw. You reach a shaky hand out to it, trace it with your palm, and shift downward on her bare leg, groaning at the feel and working with her to create a steady rhythm. And it doesn't take long- the build-up happening embarrassingly quick but then her hand is coming up and over your breast and brushing a tentative thumb over your breast and you freeze at the feel of it and she goes to pull her hand away but goddammit, no- you're frozen because you're turned the fuck on and you shoot your own hand out to cover it and push, her own breath stuttering out as she swipes and cups at the bare flesh.

You come with a gasp and a shriek of her name, hips canting, searching for contact against the hard length of her thigh.

And then the silence is back because the show has ended but she's clutching you to her as you're (again) slumped over her body and that soothing hand is back drifting over your arm and lulling your suddenly heavy eyes closer to closing with every stroke.

You rest your head on her chest, head the steady pounding of her heart. Her quiet words break the lull.

"Should we talk now or in the morning?"

Her words are slurred and half-hearted with sleep.

You laugh through the mind-numbing fear and pray she doesn't feel the sudden rigidness skate through your body.

But you kiss her forehead with a slightly trembling lip and rumble a "tomorrow" with a strength you didn't know you possessed.

And you feel as she sinks into sleep, wrapped in you and the soft comforter.

There's a deep and twisting feeling in your gut and you want to run but goddammit this is Holly Stewart and you-

You swallow and close your eyes as you settle and breathe in the smell of her.

It takes mere moments for you to sub come to the comfort of the bed, Holly's bed, and Holly's arms.

You sigh into the blackness that begins to tinge your vision, slide against the warmness of her, surrender and worry about the sunrise.

* * *

Let me know what you think. The other part of this will be the final, I'm working on it.

Thanks,

Whit


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